


The Fallout

by ivorydice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A lot of introspection, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, FFXV Kink Meme, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know if those warnings apply properly, I think I went overboard with this I'm sorry, I'm just trying to play it safe, Kidnapping, Noct is sixteen, Sexual Assault, Trauma, assailant is an OC, pre-game, wow this got long and angsty what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorydice/pseuds/ivorydice
Summary: After an assault, Noctis tries to come to terms with his own actions, his feelings, and his memories.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt at the kinkmeme here: https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=1681864
> 
> _"Something where Noct is suddenly confronted with the fact that this person who he's fighting/been kidnapped by/whatever, whoever they are, is about to rape him, and he's utterly petrified with terror at that realization._
> 
> _All his training goes out the window. He's too scared to move (or maybe he's tied up and moving would require more effort than just fighting). He stars full-on crying, something he hasn't done since he was a kid. He doesn't know what to do._
> 
> _Either the assailant stops before things go too far because they just wanted to get their kicks from scaring him that badly with the threat, or someone comes to save him at the last moment. Up to you._
> 
> _Bonus Points for:  
>  +Noctis berating himself for freezing  
> +Being confused about why he didn't try to fight back  
> +Freezing up again during training with Gladio and/or having flashbacks"_
> 
> SO, this took far too long to write. Sorry to the original prompter for such a long wait! I never expected this story to get so long. I only intended a simple fill, next thing you know fic happens. 
> 
> I'm not really happy with how this turned out, as per usual with my work, but I don't think there's anything more I can do to it. I had to stop myself from adding MORE, because I didn't want it to drag on any longer. THIS GOT SO LONG AND I'M SORRY.
> 
> As usual, no beta, so any/all mistakes are mine. Feel free to point any out! And, as usual, I might come back to this and edit it over if I see anything wrong.

Possibly the worst part about coming around from a blackout was the confusion. A feeling so intense that it was almost dizzying, a brief moment of knowing that something was horribly wrong and yet not really being able to figure out just what it was.  
  
Noctis frowned, trying to breathe through the creeping distress. There was something wrong with his mouth and his face. His wrists. His head. Something was _wrong_.  
  
Awareness slowly came back to him, overtaking the dizziness as he began to work out exactly where he was and what had happened. The last thing he could remember was standing near the back of the school and waiting for Prompto to finish up with is photography group. The place had practically been deserted since most students had gone home for the day, and the few who hadn't were inside with their various after school activity groups, so Noctis hadn't really minded waiting while it was nice and quiet.  
  
He remembered Prompto texting him, letting him know that his group had been running a little late but they were finishing up, and he was _so so sorry_ for the huge wait, the message accompanied with so many sad emojis that Noctis hadn't been able to stop himself from rolling his eyes and chuckling.  
  
Then there had been footsteps behind him, something hitting the back of his head, and then—  
  
Here. Then he had woken up here, in what appeared to be the back of a van. There were a couple of lights installed in the ceiling, bright and painful to look at, giving everything a sort of harsh and cold look. The van was practically empty, the only other things in there aside from himself being a heavy cardboard box near the opposite wall and what looked like some garden tools lying behind it, clanking and rattling against each other with every turn the vehicle made. There was a carpet beneath him, scratchy and harsh against his cheek, and the way it smelled made him dread to think how dirty it was. There were no windows to see where they might be driving past and there was a wall separating him from the front seats, so he had no idea who was driving this thing.  
  
There was some kind of material in his mouth and tied around the back of his head - the reason breathing out felt so funny then - and his wrists were tied together behind his back. His head throbbed a little and he thought he could feel something trickling down the back of his neck, but whether that was sweat or blood he wasn't sure. Whoever was up the front was playing some god-awful club music that vibrated throughout the entire van floor and into Noctis's head, making the throbbing pain in his skull pound even worse.  
  
_Prompto is gonna be so mad at me_ , he thought. The blond was probably going to have all kinds of thoughts running through his head, probably that Noctis had forgotten about him or that he had ditched him. _Please get paranoid, Prom_ , he begged silently. If Prompto got paranoid and wondered if something had happened, then there was a chance that he would check in with Ignis, who would also check in with Gladio, and then if they all figured out that Noctis wasn't where he was supposed to be, he'd have a chance of getting some backup sometime.  
  
Yeah, _sometime_. Who could tell how long that might take, and that was assuming Prompto would expect the worst to have happened. There was every chance that his friend would simply shrug it off and just head home, and then it could be hours before someone noticed he was gone.  
  
If only he could get to his phone. Noctis rolled onto his side and tried to reach his arms towards his blazer pocket, but they just wouldn't reach, his upper arms straining before he could get anywhere near it. He grunted in frustration, then gripped the jacket material, pulling at it slowly until the side slipped away from his hip and down to the floor. He could pull his pocket towards him this way, a little tricky with such limited movement, but soon enough he had it done, and then he could stick his fingers in to grasp for his phone.  
  
His pocket was empty. Noctis closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the van floor. Of _course_ it was empty. Anyone with even half a brain would get rid of something like that as soon as they took someone hostage. It was probably smashed up and in a ditch somewhere—  
  
No. He remembered. He had still had his phone in his hands after reading Prompto's text when he had been struck from behind, he could remember hearing it clatter to the ground just before everything went black. So it was probably still smashed up, and being back at the school wasn't doing him in any favours while he was stuck in  _here_.  
  
Next option then. Noctis took in a deep breath through his nose and started screaming and yelling past the gag, kicking his feet out to slam against the van wall opposite him. If he couldn't get a hold of anyone with his phone, then maybe someone outside would hear the commotion.  
  
He half-expected whoever was in the front to panic at the noise and come back to shut him up before anyone could get suspicious, but, even after several minutes of him making as much noise as possible, nothing happened. The van didn't stop and no one came back to see him.  
  
Noctis let out a frustrated sigh and let his head drop again. No one outside could probably hear him with that awful music playing. It was probably the reason it was on in the first place; to mask any suspicious sounds that might come from inside. So instead, he took a moment to rest and focused on trying to summon a weapon. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, tried to manoeuvre his hands so that he could grip a weapon properly, but nothing happened. Of _course_ it didn't happen, it figured that his magic wouldn't work properly when he needed it the most. He was still early into his magic training, his father had decided it was time to learn not long after his sixteenth birthday, and it was proving to be more difficult than he had ever imagined.  
  
And it always sounded so simple the way his father put it. _Imagine the weapon in your hand, feel the weapon with your magic, pull it out of the armoury with your strength._  
  
Easier said than done.  
  
But still he kept trying, keeping his eyes closed and ignoring the music and the pounding in his skull as best as he could. If he could just get a weapon, any weapon, then he could cut the rope and be out of here in a flash.  
  
He didn't know how much time had passed, but he was contemplating on how to get the doors open with his hands tied up when the van suddenly jerked to a stop and the music cut off. Noctis tensed, listening as someone climbed out of the front and slammed a door shut. It sounded like there was only one of them, a thought that made him frown. If this was a kidnapping, then whoever it was was either really sloppy or really confident.  
  
He quickly rolled onto his stomach and went up onto his knees, being careful not to topple over as he got his feet under him. Having his hands tied behind his back was awfully inconvenient, but without a current weapon he'd just have to deal with it. He shuffled towards the doors and steadied himself, ready to leap out as soon as he could.  
  
The back doors were thrown open and Noctis rushed forwards. Arms caught him around the waist and then he was shoved back inside, grunting as the side of his face collided with the van wall. Someone climbed in after him, the doors slamming shut behind them, and Noctis scrambled backwards as best as he could, finally getting a look at his kidnapper.  
  
The man was older than he had expected. He looked to be in his fifties, hair thin and balding, far broader and taller than Noctis was - almost on par with Gladio - but he definitely didn't seem to be in shape if the way his stomach was bulging over his pants and the way his shirt pulled taut in that area was anything to go by. An ugly smile formed on his face, a movement which pulled at the moustache on his upper lip.  
  
Noctis shoved himself further backwards, never letting his eyes drift from the man as he tried to pull a weapon from the armoury again. If he could just get one of the daggers. Just feel for it, that's all he had to do. Feel the weapon, grip it, pull it out.  
  
But he couldn't. All he could feel was cold air and a colder feeling running through his veins. He kicked at the nearest wall again, screaming as loud as he could.  
  
The man looked almost amused, smiling faintly. "No one will hear you out here," he said. "No one around to interrupt us."  
  
Noctis glared at him. The man's smile only widened and he moved forward, reaching a hand out. Noctis jerked and kicked at him, catching him in the stomach and knocking a gasp out of him. He might not have had his hands available, but he still had his feet, and he wasn't going to be taken down without a fight.  
  
"Fuck," the man hissed as Noctis caught him on the side of the head. "Stop kicking, fucking little shit." He loomed forward and swung his hand, slapping Noctis across the face so hard his head was ringing afterwards. He yelled past the gag and still struggled against the man, even as he tried to hold his legs down with one hand and slapped him again with the other.  
  
If he could just get a weapon, damn it. _Feel the weapon, grip it, pull it out._  
  
The man cupped his face suddenly and slammed his head downwards onto the van floor once, twice, three times. It wasn't enough to knock him out, but enough to leave him dazed and surprised. Noctis grimaced, trying to get his bearings back as the man sat on his feet and gripped the edges of his blazer, jerking it off of his shoulders until it caught at the ropes binding his wrists. He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and reached under Noctis to start slicing at the jacket, eventually pulling the tattered material away and throwing it to the side.  
  
Noctis stared at the blazer lying in a heap, over by the single box and garden tools, his breath catching in his throat and his body going cold. This wasn't a hostage situation, was it? This guy wasn't kidnapping him, at least not in the way he had first assumed.  
  
The man folded the switchblade up and shoved it back into his pocket. Noctis only had a moment to let out a weak, muffled protest before the man was kneeling upwards, grabbing Noctis's legs and spreading them wide, planting himself between them and looming over him.  
  
No. No, no, _no_. Not this, anything but _this_. Noctis shivered and cringed backwards into the scratchy carpet, turning his face away as a small whine left him. Gods, he could feel the man _everywhere_. His legs on either side of the man's, their groins together, stomachs and chests touching, the man's lips and moustache kissing along his throat. A tongue licked along his neck and jawline and Noctis gagged, an unpleasant sensation with the material still stuffed in his mouth.  
  
He should fight back, he should probably fight back. He should kick and scream and try to get away, but he couldn't move, couldn't stop his muscles from locking and staying still. He could only feel the man's heavy weight holding him down and he wondered how it had actually come to _this_.  
  
The man was moaning a little and grinding against him, his hands running down over Noctis's chest. If only—a weapon. If only he could get a weapon. _Feel the weapon, grip it, pull it out_. But he couldn't summon the will to concentrate on it, couldn't focus on anything past the body pressed against his, he couldn't even move. Why couldn't he move?  
  
He could only lie there and stare over at his ruined blazer, fighting back the lurching in his stomach and ignoring the way his eyes burned and how his body trembled. Maybe if he stayed still the man would lose his interest. Maybe if he closed his eyes he could fall unconscious and wake up once it was over.  
  
_Once it was over. Once_ it _was over._ Noctis wanted to clench his teeth together, wanted to bite his lip, but the gag in his mouth stopped him from doing either. He had thought this was a simple hostage situation. Kidnap the prince, demand money, that sort of thing.  
  
No, it was just some pervert that was going to rape him instead, then probably bury him somewhere afterwards if the garden tools were any indication.  
  
"You're so pretty," the man murmured against his throat, his meaty hands still running up and down Noctis's chest and stomach. He gripped Noctis's shirt and pulled at it until it was no longer tucked in. He smelled of sweat and too much cologne and it made Noctis gag and his body lurched with the motion as nausea began taking over. Panic flooded him then, leaving him hot and cold, because no, please no, he didn't want to throw up with the gag in his mouth, please—  
  
A hand closed around his throat and started squeezing. Another clenched in his hair and turned his face to stare upwards. Noctis heard himself whine again as the hand in his hair moved downwards, sliding up his shirt, sweaty fingers trailing over his abdomen and upwards towards his chest. Noctis shivered and shook his head, tears burning their way down his cheeks and into his hair as he moaned in protest, the sound choked off when the man squeezed his hand around his throat even harder, cutting his air off completely.  
  
_Feel the weapon, grip it, pull it out, he thought_ , his eyes drifting to the ceiling above. If only...if only. But he couldn't find the will, couldn't feel the weapon. He could only feel the body pressed against his, as close as they could get and yet strangely distant now. His vision was just starting to go fuzzy, darkening on the edges, when the man let go and Noctis tried to breathe again.  
  
The man smiled. "If you're good for me, then I might make it good for you," he said. He leaned over Noctis, pressing them flush together once more and groped at him through his pants, and Noctis couldn't hold back his sobs anymore, couldn't fight them as they ripped from his chest. They seemed loud in the van, echoing around and back at him, exposing his shame and his weakness.  
  
" _Please_ ," he tried to say, tried to beg, but it was muffled and garbled because of the gag. _Please, please, please, please_ _—_  
  
He felt like a child again, five years old with a scraped knee that would be the end of the world, and his dad smiling down at him and kissing it better, telling him that he would survive. Or nine years old and waking with a scream from a nightmare of bloodshed and explosions and soldiers, and Ignis holding him and rocking him back to sleep, whispering that it was all over and he was all right.  
  
Except now the only one holding him, the only one kissing him, was this man above him. This man, groaning and grinding against him, face buried in his throat, hand still rubbing him through his pants, and Noctis could only cry and sob and tremble beneath him. Those hands moved suddenly, reaching for his belt, and he moaned against the gag again, desperately shaking his head—  
  
There was a strange noise building from outside and several distant bangs sounded in the distance. The man only had enough time to jump up off of him, switchblade at the ready, before the back doors were bursting open and men were piling in. Noctis could only blink and flinch at the commotion, not quite sure what was going on, still too focused on the crawling feeling on his skin and the way his chest was jerking with his sobs. Yelling and bangs and thumps, and the man was being dragged out of the van kicking and screaming. Noctis squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away, trying to slow his breathing, flinching back when he felt someone climb into the van and approach him.  
  
"Your Highness," a voice said, and Noctis opened his eyes, taking a moment to focus on Cor's face hovering above him, wondering at the strange expression on his face. The marshal raised his head to look out of the van. "I need a medic in here! Hurry!"  
  
He turned back to Noctis then and reached down, hesitatingly only briefly when Noctis flinched away from him. He quickly untied the gag and then the rope binding his wrists, that strange look never leaving his face. "Your Highness, are you hurt?"  
  
Noctis could only stare up at him, still confused and struggling to catch up. The situation had gone from one extreme to another and he found he wasn't able to focus properly, still stuck on the sensation of that larger body pressing him into the van floor. But it was gone now, almost as if it had never happened. Had it happened? "Cor?" Noctis murmured. His mouth felt funny, his tongue oddly dry, and he swallowed painfully.  
  
The look on Cor's face only seemed to intensify. Was that worry? The marshal glanced up and moved backwards slightly as another figure climbed in. Noctis cringed away and closed his eyes again as the medic checked him over. The man's Crownsguard uniform, his gentle touches, and his voice narrating what he was doing did nothing to help Noctis feel better, but he clenched his hands and breathed through it, even as the medic pulled his eyelids back and checked his pupils. "Are there any injuries you can tell me about?" the medic said after a moment.  
  
Noctis stared at him, then looked at Cor over his shoulder, figuring he'd have to say something. "Guy hit my head a couple of times," Noctis murmured.  
  
"Mind if I have a feel?"  
  
Noctis closed his eyes and almost laughed at that, but he imagined that reaction would only make Cor stare at him even weirder. "Sure," he said instead. If he kept his eyes closed, then he could pretend none of it was real. The medic felt around his head gently, moving even more carefully when he hissed, those fingers probing the wound at the back of his head.  
  
"Yeah, he's been hurt here," the medic murmured, probably talking to Cor now. "He should definitely get checked out."  
  
"All right," Cor said. "Your Highness? I'm going to carry you over to the ambulance, all right? Your Highness? Noctis?"  
  
Cor only called him by his name when he was truly worried. Noctis opened his eyes and nodded slowly, wondering at how everything seemed so far away. The marshal and medic's faces were only inches above him, but they seemed so fuzzy, so distant, he could reach his hand out and they would be miles away from him. "Sure," Noctis murmured.  
  
Normally he would balk at the idea of being carried, but his body was still trembling and heavy and he felt as if he had been glued to the floor. He half-worried that the marshal wouldn't be able to carry him at all, his limbs felt heavy like Gladio's weight-lifting gear, and yet Cor picked up him as if he weighed nothing, gentle and careful and holding him close as he and the medic climbed out of the van. Noctis blinked at the sudden change in light and noise. The place was surrounded by various vans, Crownsguard rushing around the area as if preparing for a battle, people barking orders and requests to each other. There were helicopters above them, circling the area like birds of prey, black shapes against an orange and pink sky.  
  
"We'll get you to the Citadel," Cor said softly, voice only for his ears. If he noticed the way Noctis was still shaking then he gave no indication to it. The bustling around him still felt so surreal against the quiet and stillness of the van, so many people compared to just the two of _them_ , he couldn't keep up with it all, and then he was being bundled into the back of a military ambulance, gently laid down on the stretcher there before Cor pressed a hand to his shoulder. "I'll be back in a moment," he said, then he was climbing out and shutting the doors, silencing some of the noise from outside.  
  
He was left on his own then, no one but him inside the ambulance, and Noctis took a moment to stare up at the ceiling. Once again he was on his back and inside a van, and he half-expected it to happen all over again. He raised a hand and pressed it against his mouth to fight back the nausea rising up once more. His breathing seemed too loud and heavy suddenly, and he fought to bring it down to something more normal, fought back the sobs that wanted to claw out of his chest like tiny little daemons ripping him apart.  
  
There were voices just outside, muffled a little by the doors, and Noctis stilled, listening.  
  
"Look, I think it's best if you just follow us in the car." That was Cor's voice. "We're taking him straight to the Citadel."  
  
"Is he hurt?" a deeper voice said. "We saw you carry him out."  
  
"We don't know, entirely. He looks like he's been knocked around a little and his head is bleeding, so we're getting him checked out. What's concerning me the most is how disoriented he seems, that's why I don't want anyone else in there. We don't want to overwhelm him."  
  
Noctis pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring how shaky his muscles were, and he could just make out Cor on the other side of the window in one of the doors. He was talking to a very pissed off looking Gladio. Ignis and Prompto stood on either side of him, both of them looking worried. Gladio showed nothing resembling concern and Noctis flinched at the expression on his Shield's face. Gladio wasn't angry at _him_ was he? Was he angry that Noctis had let this man get the drop on him? That he had gotten kidnapped? That he was nearly—  
  
Gods, they didn't know about that already, did they? Did Cor? Had he been able to work out what had happened as soon as he climbed into that van, as soon as he saw Noctis? Was it obvious to everyone here what had happened? Could they see it on his face, in the way that he couldn't stop shaking?  
  
Could they see how gods damned fucking _weak_ he was?  
  
Noctis let himself fall back onto the stretcher. He wiped at his face, trying to get rid of the remaining tear tracks, hoping Cor hadn't noticed them yet. He started to run his hands over his shirt to smooth out any wrinkles, but he had to stop, the sensation too similar to _that man_. It'd be okay if his shirt was wrinkled, wouldn't it? Surely a few wrinkles wouldn't give away his shame, would it?  
  
The doors opened again and Cor was climbing in. "Like I said, follow us in the car," he called over his shoulder, and then he and the medic from before were coming back in, slamming the doors shut as the engine started.  
  
"We're taking you back to the Citadel now," Cor said to Noctis as he approached the stretcher, sitting down on the bench next to him. "We're taking you home."  
  
Noctis nodded and turned his face to the ceiling. He closed his eyes and let the world drift in and out.

  
~ &~

  
  
Everyone in the Citadel was moving too fast.  
  
Doctors and nurses bustled around him, talking to him and to each other, putting him through tests and examinations, asking him countless questions that he struggled to answer, and it all blurred together until it felt as if someone had hit the fast forward button on everyone. He was watching them all zip by, left to sit on the edge of his hospital bed and feeling both stupid and like someone had stuffed his head full of cotton.  
  
They tested his blood to see if he had been drugged, but that came back negative, which he could have told them if only his mouth would work properly.  
  
When they checked him over repeatedly and decided that he didn't have a concussion, something cold ran through him.  
  
That man had hit his head _before_ he had started cutting Noctis's blazer off, _before_ he had climbed on top of him and—  
  
He had hit Noctis before _that stuff_ had happened. If he had been concussed from the repeated blows, then that would have explained why he hadn't been able to react properly once the man was forcing himself on him. If he had been concussed, then that would have explained how shot his emotions were and how his body wouldn't listen to his needs and move.  
  
But he hadn't been concussed, he hadn't reacted, and he had no excuse.  
  
From what the doctors were saying, Noctis guessed that bruising was now showing up on his face and neck from where he had been slapped and strangled, but that fact didn't truly register until his dad walked in and practically flinched upon seeing him.  
  
"Noct," his dad said, voice a little strained and weak. He rushed over to the bed immediately, cane gripped tightly in one hand, and he pulled Noctis into his arms as soon as he was close enough. Noctis let him, closing his eyes and fighting back every urge not to bury his face into his father's shirt and sob like a child.  
  
"Your Majesty," a voice said from the door. It was Cor, back from whatever he had set off to do as soon as they had arrived at the Citadel. "We have the prisoner detained in the cells. We questioned him extensively, but he still maintains that he had no idea it was the prince he was kidnapping."  
  
"Sounds like a panicked excuse, at best," his dad said, and Noctis frowned into his shirt. Did they not know? Were they assuming it was a kidnapping like he had first thought? "Do you have any idea if there were others involved?"  
  
"There's nothing so far, but we're still looking into it."  
  
"Good." Hands on his shoulders, and Noctis was suddenly being pushed back a little, his dad smiling down at him weakly, but it faded with his words. "Noct, can you tell us what happened from your perspective?"  
  
Noctis stared up at him, his voice escaping him again as Cor approached the bed and stood closer. Noctis felt himself shrinking back a little at their stares. What should he tell them? What had that man told them? What had the doctors told them? That man hadn't been able to get that far, so it wasn't as if the doctors would have any physical evidence of those things happening had they known to look for it, but could it be seen on his face? Was it written across his skin, was it plain to see in his eyes?  
  
"I—uh..." Noctis swallowed and glanced away. "Not much to tell, really."  
  
His dad frowned at him, eyes shining with worry.  
  
"I mean..." Noctis looked between them both, feeling so strange at how they were staring at him. There was that strange, distant feeling again. They were so close, his father was still holding onto him, and yet it was almost as if they were standing behind a pane of glass. Or as if the whole world was a photograph. "I was waiting outside the school," Noctis forced himself to say. "Then something hit my head and I blacked out. Then I woke up in the van and he roughed me up a little. Then the Crownsguard came."  
  
Cor frowned. "That's it? He didn't say anything, talk about what he wanted, what his plans were?"  
  
_If you're good for me, then I might make it good for you_. Noctis shook his head. "Not really," he murmured. "He didn't really get the chance to before you guys came busting in. I think we spent most of the time driving."  
  
He almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it was, the fact that he was practically _defending_ this man, sharing a secret with the man who tried to hurt him and keeping it from those who would seek justice.  
  
_Just tell them_ , a part of him screamed. _Just tell them and get it over with. Tell them what that guy really was, tell them what he wanted. Tell them what you are._  
  
But he couldn't tell them. He couldn't bear to. Because he was a coward, that's what he was. He was a coward who hadn't been able to fight back. He was a coward who was freaking out over a little _touching_ _—_  
  
Noctis flinched, then glanced up self-consciously, realizing how that must have seemed. "Sorry," he mumbled, biting his lip. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little..."  
  
"It's all right," his dad said, voice soothing, hands resting on his shoulders and squeezing. His hands felt heavy and warm and _safe_. "You've had a very frightening experience. You're bound to feel out of sorts."  
  
Noctis nodded, then leaned forward, pressing his forehead into his dad's chest. Just for a moment, he just wanted a moment, wanted to absorb his father's warmth and wrap it around him like a blanket to keep him safe forever. He felt his father press his lips to the top of his head gently. "I'm just glad you're all right," he murmured, and Noctis squeezed his eyes shut. Because he was, he was all right. A little roughed up, maybe, but he was _fine_ , he hadn't been hurt, not really, so _please_ , please let the crawling feeling stop, let the constant chanting of _weak pathetic coward_ stop playing in the back of his head.  
  
"Are you up to having visitors?" his dad asked after a moment. "Your retainers have been hounding everyone for details since they arrived and some of the nurses look close to sedating them." Noctis pulled away and sat back with a nod. His father smiled at him and made a gesture to Cor, who quickly left the room. "I also had the pleasure of meeting your friend from school. He's quite a character."  
  
Noctis suddenly felt like a jerk. "Oh, Prompto," he breathed and ran a hand over his face. "He's probably freaking out by now."  
  
"Quite," his father smiled. "But it's thanks to him that the Crownsguard found you so quickly."  
  
"It is?" Noctis stared at him.  
  
"It's not!" a new voice called. Prompto quickly came in the room, followed by Ignis, Gladio and Cor. "I only did a little thing, no big deal." He paused, staring at the king with wide eyes. "I mean, no disrespect meant, of course, Your Majesty—"  
  
Noctis found himself smiling weakly. "Prom," he said. "What'd you do?"  
  
Prompto returned the smile, seeming unsure of himself as he stepped closer. "I mean, I just—oh _man_ , your face," he winced then and Noctis raised a hand self-consciously to his bruised cheek. Prompto bit his lip and dug in his pocket, pulling out Noctis's phone. "I found it on the ground when I got out of school. You were nowhere to be seen and I knew you'd never just ditch your phone like that, so when I looked around I saw this van and you were tied up and unconscious in the back."  
  
Noctis felt himself flinch a little at that, then quickly tried to mask the movement by taking his phone back. "Don't tell me you did something stupid like take the guy on," he said, and if Prompto _had_ done that then he was going to kick his ass himself.  
  
"No," Prompto said. "Kinda wish I did, but I don't really know how to fight, yeah? And I only saw you briefly, 'cause that guy was then closing the doors and getting in the van to drive away. So I snapped a picture of the licence plate and sent it to Ignis with an SOS message."  
  
"And I sent that to Gladio and the Crownsguard," Ignis spoke up, pushing his glasses further up his nose, a habit when he was nervous or worried. "It was only a matter of time after that."  
  
Gladio was frowning at him, arms crossed over his chest. "Too much time," he grunted, eyeing Noctis up and down. "You okay, though?"  
  
Noctis stared at him, wondering again if his Shield was angry with him. And suddenly with everyone in the room staring at him, he felt transparent, like they could read his thoughts, so he nodded and looked down at the phone in his hands. "I'm fine," he said.  
  
"You don't look fine," Prompto murmured. "I'm sorry, Noct, if I hadn't been at my group, if I'd been there with you—"  
  
Noctis looked up at him and shook his head instantly. "Not your fault, Prom," he said. It was _his_ fault, _he_ had let that man get the drop on him, he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings when he should have been, he should _always_ be aware of what and who was around him.  
  
He suddenly couldn't bear the idea of Prompto blaming himself for any of this, especially when he had practically _saved_ Noctis from a worse fate. If his friend hadn't reacted the way he had, then he would have been raped and most likely buried underground by now. Noctis reached out and gripped his friend's wrist tightly, earning him a look of surprise and worry. "Thanks, Prompto," he said. "If it hadn't been for you..."  
  
Prompto stared at him in silence for a moment, eyes wide and concerned, and then he nodded. "Anytime," he said, his voice strangely subdued.  
  
Noctis bit his lip and looked over at his father. "Can I get out of here yet?"  
  
"Of course," his dad said. "Although I'd prefer it if you stayed in the Citadel instead of your apartment. We don't know if anyone else was working with this man yet."  
  
"If he knew where you go to school," Cor added, "there's a possibility he knew where you live. So it's best to stay here until further notice, just as a precaution."  
  
Of course, they were still under the impression that this was a deliberate kidnapping of the prince. Noctis could put an end to that theory now, could set the record straight, tell them that it wasn't an attack against the Crown, it was just some pervert who probably really _hadn't_ known who he was—  
  
But he couldn't. With the way they were all staring at him now, with so much relief that he was mostly unhurt...he couldn't. He wouldn't be able to bear the reactions, couldn't stand to see the disappointment, the anger, the disgust, the shame.  
  
He couldn't tell them. Because he was a coward.

  
~ &~

  
Things felt hazy and blurry, and yet he was still disturbingly aware of where everyone was and how loud everything seemed. He pulled into himself and kept his distance, avoiding touching anyone if he had to, and either no one noticed his actions or they didn't think to mention it.  
  
Noctis asked if Prompto could sleep over in the Citadel, and it was warming to hear his father's instant permission, and the bright grin Prompto gave him at that was comforting.  
  
And, soon enough, he found himself in the en-suite bathroom of his Citadel rooms, listening to Prompto, Ignis and Gladio talking and laughing about something on the other side of the door. They were setting up snacks and deciding what movies to watch while Noctis was supposed to be showering, but instead he found himself rooted to the floor in front of sink, gripping the counter tightly, his eyes glued to his reflection opposite him.  
  
It was strange how, despite his very faint injuries, he looked as normal as he ever did. His cheek had bruised, a mixture of a dull purple, red and brown. It wasn't as vivid as he had expected considering the way everyone had reacted to seeing his face, but it was so obvious it was from a hand, he guessed that was the reason why people flinched whenever they looked at him. The bruises on his neck were slightly darker, more of that purple-brown, and finger marks were curled around his throat from where that man had squeezed— _and his vision had been growing fuzzy, darkness slowly creeping in, and yet it did nothing to make the sensation of that body feel farther away_ _—_  
  
Noctis clapped a hand over his mouth and focused on breathing _now_. He met his own eyes in the mirror and they were wide and wild. He couldn't do this now. It was _over_. It had happened, the man had been taken into custody, and _it was over_.  
  
But he still felt like a mess. He wanted to curl up somewhere and hide, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scratch his skin off, and yet through all of the creeping hysteria he was just so fucking _angry_ with himself that he wanted to slam his head off of a wall to try and knock some sense into his brain.  
  
He hadn't put up a fight. He hadn't struggled when it had mattered the most. Why? He had found the will to fight when that man had first approached him, he had been so determined not to give the guy an inch, and yet when it came down to it he simply froze. _Why_? What was the point in all of his training if he was just going to let it fly out of the window when he actually needed it? What kind of fighter did that make him? What kind of king would that make him?  
  
What kind of king would simply lie down and take it?  
  
Noctis dashed over to the toilet and reached it in time, dropping to his knees as he threw up. Because he would have, wouldn't he? If Prompto hadn't sent out that SOS, if the Crownsguard hadn't shown up, he would have just lain there and let that guy fuck him. He wouldn't have fought it, despite his disgust and his tears, despite that his legs had been free and he could have kicked and screamed and headbutted him.  
  
No, he would have just stayed still and let that man have his way. And what did that make him?  
  
Why hadn't he done something? Why had he just stayed still?  
  
Noctis flushed the toilet, quickly brushed his teeth and jumped in the shower. He tried not to cringe at touching his own body, and at the same time he tried not to scrub his skin away in the hopes of getting rid of this _thing_ hiding under there.

  
~ &~

  
"You okay?" Prompto whispered after the third time he jerked awake from a fitful sleep.  
  
It was dark in his bedroom, nearly pitch black, and it was that special kind of quiet the Citadel got usually after midnight. Prompto laid in the bed beside him, at a respectable distance, something which was oddly comforting. Noctis had half-expected his skin to be crawling at the proximity, his body too focused on what had happened earlier that day, but having Prompto near him was nice.  
  
"Noct?" Prompto murmured, sounding a little more concerned now.  
  
His gasps had quietened down now and his heartbeat wasn't pounding in his chest anymore. "I'm fine," he replied, staring up at the dark ceiling.  
  
In his peripheral vision, he saw Prompto turn his head to look at him, eyes almost glowing in the low light coming from the windows. He looked like he wanted to ask something. Noctis prayed that he didn't. He prayed that he did.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended that he had fallen back asleep.

  
~&~

  
Morning brought a strange sort of numbness. It was almost as if the events of the previous day had simply been a bad dream or a product of his imagination. As he watched Prompto rush around to get his things together - needing to head home early to pick up some stuff before going to school - he could almost pretend that it hadn't happened at all, that he could get up and carry on with things like normal.  
  
Until he looked in the bathroom mirror and saw his bruises, both of which seemed a lot more vivid and starker than the day before. Noctis stared at his reflection and trailed his fingertips over the marks gingerly. He expected the feelings to come flooding back, the nausea, the distress, the fear.  
  
What he felt, instead, was anger and regret and shame.  
  
_If only you had fought back. If only you hadn't frozen up underneath him._  
  
"Noct."  
  
_If only you weren't so weak and pathetic, crying over something that wasn't so bad in the first place._  
  
"Noct?"  
  
_I mean, why are you so upset about this, it's not like you were_ actually _ra_ _—_  
  
"Noct!"  
  
Noctis looked up, startled, only to see Prompto and Ignis standing in the bathroom doorway, both of them staring at him with such wide, concerned eyes that it almost made him sick. Couldn't they see that he didn't deserve their concern? Couldn't they see how weak he was? What would they think if they found out how much of a coward their prince and their friend was, so much that he would lie still underneath a man instead of fight off his attacks?  
  
"I'm on my way out now," Prompto said hesitantly. "Just wanted to say I'll see you later?"  
  
Noctis frowned, then glanced down at himself. He was still in his sweatpants and t-shirt. He'd need to start getting ready soon if he was going to make it on time. "Oh, I—uh, yeah. I'll see you at school?"  
  
"Noct, you're not going to school today," Ignis said.  
  
"I'm not?" Noctis blinked. "Why?"  
  
"Your father and the doctors agree that you should take a few days rest," Ignis replied. When Noctis opened his mouth to protest, Ignis raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "It's not a request, Noct. Besides, we need to find you a new school blazer. Cor said your other one was cut up beyond repair."  
  
Prompto looked confused at that. "Why was it cut up?"  
  
Noctis fought back a flinch and shrugged. "Don't know, it was like that when I woke up," he heard himself say, his voice coming to him as if from the other end of a long tunnel. "Maybe it got in the way of tying my wrists up."  
  
Prompto frowned and there was a strange look in his eyes. "But—"  
  
"If I can't go to school, can I at least go and catch up on training?" Noctis cut him off, suddenly feeling desperate to be anywhere but near his friends, which was just plain _wrong_ and he hated that things had come to this. He couldn't ignore the uncomfortable feeling underneath his skin, however, that horrible itchy feeling like they could see right through him, see him for what he really was, and he hated that even more.  
  
Besides, he felt like he should keep busy. If he rested like they wanted him to, then he would only start thinking, start remembering his failures. If he kept moving, if he kept himself occupied, then maybe he could forget.  
  
Ignis was staring at him oddly. "I suppose training couldn't hurt."  
  
"Great," Noctis nodded, and he was already rushing out of the bathroom, practically barging past the two of them in his haste to get away. "I'll see you later, Prom, okay?"  
  
And the weak "Oh, uh, okay" that trailed after him cut deep into his chest, yet another failure, another shame, but he couldn't let them see the truth that felt so plainly written on his face. It was better to have them feeling a little rebuffed now than to have them shun him forever later.

  
~ &~

  
Training didn't help. He thought it would, but it only served to drive the point home even further.  
  
Nearly five years of training with Gladio with his fists and swords, his daggers and his polearms. Nearly five years of learning how to move his body _this_ way and how to use his strength _that_ way, learning dodges and attacks, improving his stamina and building muscle.  
  
Nearly five years of learning how to fight, and for what?  
  
Instead of turning his face away, he should have been swinging his head _towards_ the man. He should have aimed for his nose, should have broken it, should have knocked the living daylights out of him.  
  
Instead of tensing his knees on either side of the man's hips, he should have found a way to flip his body off of him. Or, even better, he should have kneed him in the balls, should have rolled away and kicked out at him with his _untied feet_ , he should have found a way to get that switchblade so that he could use it on the rope around his wrists. Then he could have turned the tables, could have shown the man just what he had gotten himself into.  
  
It all seemed so obvious now that he thought back on it, so why hadn't it been obvious when it had been happening?  
  
He should have _fought_ against him. Why hadn't he fought back?  
  
_Because_ _—_  
  
Why hadn't he put a stop to it?  
  
_Because he had been_ _—_  
  
Why?

  
~ &~

  
Because he had been scared.  
  
_He had been scared_.  
  
And that was weak.

  
~ &~

  
A day after his kidnapping, Noctis was touring one of their favourite arcades with Prompto and Gladio.  
  
"Dude, what the hell, you're usually kicking my _ass_ at this game," Prompto chuckled from beside him, fingers bashing the buttons on the machine in front of them. He was still in his school uniform and his bag lay at their feet, something sloshing inside whenever their shoes nudged it.  
  
Noctis _would_ be kicking his ass at the fighting game if it wasn't for the figure in the corners of his eyes, a few machines to the right of them. A man somewhat older than they were, taller and broad shouldered, his hair balding. Noctis was caught between staring at him to keep him in his sights, and not looking anywhere near him for fear of being noticed. If this man saw him, would he take one look at Noctis and know that he was such easy prey? Would he find a way to separate him from Prompto and Gladio? Would he take him to the back of a van and—  
  
"Oh, looks like I win again," Prompto teased, leaning forward against the machine and grinning at their characters. He glanced at Noctis, and he knew that he hadn't pulled his eyes away from the man quick enough when Prompto's gaze followed his, bright blue eyes tracking over to the man suspiciously, moving back to Noctis and looking a little more concerned. "You okay, man?" he asked quietly.  
  
Noctis smiled and nodded. "I'm fine," he said.  
  
Prompto looked at something over his shoulder, and then there was a sudden warmth at his back, towering over him, and a soft voice in his ear, "Ready to get out of here?"  
  
Noctis flinched forwards, curling into himself, a gasp trying to claw its way out of his throat. _You're so pretty. If you're good for me, then I might make it good for you._ But, no, _no_ , it was only Gladio, and Gladio would never even consider hurting him.  
  
He couldn't do this here, he couldn't let this stuff show on his face, he couldn't let them _see_. It was over now, it was supposed to be over.  
  
There was a genuine spark of fear in Prompto's face, his eyes widening, and Noctis quickly swallowed and nodded. "Sure," he said. "I'm getting kinda hungry, anyway."  
  
He ignored how Gladio seemed to purposefully block his view of the man at the other arcade machine, and he how seemed both taller and broader, his brown eyes darting back and forth as if looking for a threat.  
  
Normally it would have been annoying how Gladio was walking beside him, acting more like his Shield instead of his friend, as if they were attending a state event at the Citadel. Now, coupled with Prompto watching him like he was made of glass and attempting to make small talk, it just made him feel pathetic.

  
~ &~

  
Because, really, it wasn't as if he had anything to actually feel bad about, was it? It wasn't as if he had actually been raped. That man hadn't even been able to get his clothes off before the Crownsguard had come charging in and quickly put an end to things.  
  
They had saved him. Prompto, Gladio and Ignis, the Crownsguard, Cor. They had _saved_ him.  
  
And yet here he was. There were people out there who went through so much worse, people who were abused, people who were actually raped, and yet here he was, falling apart because some man had felt him up a little in the back of a van.  
  
It was bad enough that he hadn't put a stop to it in the first place, now he couldn't stop himself from being weak at the memory of it?

  
~ &~

  
Three days after his kidnapping, he had a video game box in one hand, his phone in the other, and there was a small group of men standing behind him.  
  
They weren't doing anything wrong, not really, they were just browsing the movie selection, apparently trying to decide which one would be best for some kind of action movie marathon they were going to have, and there was _nothing_ wrong with that. Noctis _knew_ that, he really did.  
  
But he couldn't help the way his body had tensed up as soon as they had rounded the corner into the aisle he was in. He couldn't help the cold shivers that ran down his spine whenever they got a little too loud or whenever they moved suddenly, shoving each other and laughing good-naturedly.  
  
He wanted to move past them so he could head to the counter and buy the damn game already. Prompto, Ignis and Gladio were waiting for him in a diner nearby, and they had been waiting for nearly fifteen minutes now. Ten minutes more and one or _all_ of them would come and see where he had gotten to, maybe even less time now considering what had happened. They hadn't been too happy at the idea when he had offered to come and pick up the game while the store was still open, but he had been so desperate to get away from their questioning stares that he had hardly listened to their protests.  
  
He sort of wished he had now, then he wouldn't be rooted to the damn spot like an idiot, staring down at the back of the game box as if he was actually reading over the blurb. He had already read it a few times over, even though he knew what it was about from the way Prompto kept going on about it, but he needed to look like he was actually doing _something_.  
  
Noctis closed his eyes briefly. It wasn't as if those guys would actually hurt him, was it? They wouldn't, not in such a public place, and that was _if_ they were even interested, which hardly seemed likely. But he was just so stuck on the _what ifs_. What if he moved to walk away and that earned their attention, what if they decided to follow him out of the store, what if they _did_ want to hurt him, what if, what if, what if.  
  
Shame and disgust stabbed through him. He was freezing up again and he wasn't even in any immediate danger. He wasn't _fighting_ when he should have been. _Weak pathetic coward_.  
  
There was a new text message on his phone. Noctis lowered the video game box and looked at his phone instead. It was from Prompto. ' _Dude, how long does it take to buy a game?_ '  
  
It sounded sarcastic and playful and mocking, but Noctis knew his friends. They were getting worried, and that meant they were close to coming to check on him. He almost wished they would, then they could serve as backup or protection. The guys behind him wouldn't even think to mess with him if someone like Gladio came over.  
  
_Some fighter_ , he thought to himself. _Some king you'll make, always cowering behind your friends and freezing up in fear when they're not there to protect you. Weak pathetic coward, weak pathetic coward, weak_ _—_  
  
The guys behind him laughed again and moved further down the aisle, further away from Noctis, and he could _breathe_ again, he could move away and walk to the counter to purchase his game, he could pretend like nothing was wrong, like his skin wasn't itching and crawling beneath his clothes, like his heart wasn't trying to rip its way out of his chest.  
  
It was dark and chilly outside, but Noctis was grateful for the cold air, liked the way it felt on his cheeks and seemed to wake him up a little. The traffic was still heavy and loud, and he focused on that noise, let it drown out the constant chanting in his head as he made his way down the street and towards the diner.  
  
He paused, however, when he came to the edge of the path. The main road was to his left, but there was a side street to his right, leading downwards, and at the bottom of that small bank was another group of men, all of them sitting on or leaning against motorcycles, beer bottles in hands, talking loudly as they hung outside of a bar.  
  
_Weak pathetic coward, weak pathetic_ _—_  
  
He could prove it, he thought distantly. He could prove that he wasn't weak, that he wasn't a coward. He could approach those men and see if they thought of him as prey, see if they wanted what _that man_ had wanted, and if they didn't then he could always goad them into a fight. Then, _then_ , he could prove that he wasn't weak, he could prove that he wouldn't always freeze up when the situation called for it. He could prove that he was a fighter, that he was worthy, that he wasn't something disgusting and dirty and shameful.  
  
And if they wanted what that man had wanted, if they grabbed him and tied him up and took him away, then he could fix where he had gone wrong. He could show that he could learn from his mistakes, that he wouldn't always be this pathetic. He could kick and headbutt and fight, he could get himself _away_ _—_  
  
_Or you'll just freeze and it'll happen all over again. You can't change who you are. You can't change_ what _you are. Weak pathetic co_ _—_  
  
"Noct!" a voice called from the other side of the road, jerking him out of his thoughts. Noctis looked up and saw Prompto jogging towards him. "Dude, you've been gone for, like, half an hour? Everything okay?"  
  
Noctis stared at him with a creeping sense of dread and horror. What had he been _thinking_? Why was he so stuck on this idea that everyone was out to attack him? And to actually think about _seeking it out_ , to actually consider putting himself in genuine danger just to prove a point—  
  
_First you lie there and let him feel you up, now you think about other people doing the same? It's almost like you_ wanted _it to happen._  
  
Prompto was looking down the side street with a strange look on his face, and when he turned back to Noctis he looked very, very serious. "Noct?" he said quietly.  
  
Noctis smiled and shook his head. "There was a queue at the store, okay? We're not the only people in the world who buys games and movies, you know." He started forwards, grabbing Prompto by the arm and pulling him along. "Come on, I'm starving."  
  
He wasn't. In fact, he felt like he was going to throw up right there in the street, but Prompto didn't need to know that.  
  
They had chosen a booth near the back, and Ignis and Gladio _visibly_ relaxed at their approach. Ignis pushed his glasses up his nose and watched as Noctis dropped the bag containing the video game onto the table, in front of Prompto's seat by the window. "Is everything all right?" Ignis asked.  
  
Noctis smiled and nodded. "Sure." He shucked his jacket off and dropped it on his part of the booth beside Prompto. "I need to use the bathroom, so order for me, okay?" he gave Ignis a pointed look. "No veggies."  
  
He didn't wait for a reply, instead turned and headed straight for the men's bathroom, fighting back the urge to run the way there.

  
~ &~

  
Locked in one of the bathroom stalls, Noctis pressed his hands to his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut and fought back the urge to scream.  
  
It was early days, he kept trying to tell himself. It had only happened _a few days ago_ , after all. So, surely, he was still allowed to feel 'out of sorts', as his dad had put it. Or maybe, because it had been a few days ago, he should have started feeling on the mend by now.  
  
One day it would get better and he wouldn't have to think about it anymore. He wouldn't have to force his smiles and pretend like he was fine, he wouldn't have to fight back the urge to claw at his face, wouldn't feel like there was a neon sign constantly above his head and revealing his shame to the world.  
  
It _would_ get better, wouldn't it? One day?  
  
_Weak pathetic coward, weak pathetic_ _—_ _please, please, please_ _—_  
  
Right?  
  
It'd get better, right?

  
~ &~

  
"All right," Gladio said once Noctis disappeared behind the door. "Where was he?"  
  
Prompto bit his lip and shook his head, his foot tapping on the floor beneath their table. "He was just...standing there, in the street. Watching this group of bikers near a bar." At their raised eyebrows, he shook his head again, more frantically this time. "I don't know, okay? He was just watching them and—and his _face_ when I went up to him, he looked so..."  
  
At his silence, Ignis nudged his foot under the table from opposite him. "So?" he prompted.  
  
"Like...he looked scared, or sick, or horrified, or...I don't _know_ , all of the above?" Prompto stared at the other two with wide, desperate eyes. "Guys, he's been so jumpy and freaked out lately, it's like he's falling apart or something."  
  
Ignis pursed his lips together and nodded. "Perhaps this kidnapping event shook him a lot more than we first thought."  
  
"And that's another thing," Prompto said. "I think he's lying about what happened."  
  
Gladio frowned. "Explain."  
  
"It's what he said about his school blazer being cut up," Prompto answered, glancing between the two. "He said it was like that when he woke up, right? And he thought it might have been in the way of tying his wrists up? But I _swear_ , when I saw him in that van, he was already tied up and he still had his blazer on." He fought back a shiver at the memory of seeing his best friend unconscious and tied up in the back of that van, at the panic he had felt when he had been driven away.  
  
"That doesn't make any sense," Gladio said. "Why would a blazer get in the way of tying his wrists up? It has sleeves, you could just roll them up. And if he hadn't been tied up at that point, then there wouldn't have been a need to cut it off."  
  
Ignis was frowning down at the table, pressing a hand to his mouth in thought. "I saw the blazer. Cor showed it to me. It was in pieces, as if..."  
  
Prompto bit his lip again. "As if tied wrists had been in the way of taking it off? So it was cut off instead?"  
  
Ignis froze and stared at him with wide eyes, and Prompto would have laughed had he not felt the horrible urge to cry. "But why would this man have need to remove Noct's jacket?" he said quietly with a glance to the bathroom door.  
  
They could all think of a few reasons why, but none of them wanted to say any of it out loud. They could always be jumping to conclusions, after all. They could be wrong. They _hoped_ they were wrong, but there was no way to tell. Because neither Noctis nor his kidnapper were admitting to anything.  
  
"We need talk to him," Prompto said.

  
~ &~

  
As they headed back to the car, Prompto shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and eyed his best friend out of the corners of his eyes. Noctis seemed as normal as ever, his face and eyes calm and neutral, not allowing anyone to see what was going on underneath. He might have been a little hunched in on himself, but that could have been to fight off the cold, his face tucked into his collar and his hands in his own pockets.  
  
It seemed so normal, like any other time they were out together. He even laughed at a few of Gladio's terrible jokes.  
  
And yet, hadn't it only been an hour ago when Prompto had found him standing in the middle of the street, watching a bunch of bikers with wide eyes and a look of horror on his face? He had been _so still_ , like he didn't dare take another step. It had almost been like he was frozen to the spot, unable to move.  
  
Like he was paralyzed by fear.  
  
And he had every right to be scared. Hell, if it had been Prompto that had been bundled into the back of a van and kidnapped, then he wouldn't even have the balls to step outside let alone go to arcades and diners and stores.  
  
But it seemed so much more than that. There was something else lurking beneath the surface, and whatever it was was tearing his friend apart.  
  
"Hey, Noct?" Prompto said quietly, so that only Noctis could hear. Gladio and Ignis were walking up ahead a few feet away, close enough to still guard the prince but far enough that they had some privacy, like they had all agreed upon in the hopes that he could get his friend to talk.  
  
"Yeah?" Noctis replied.  
  
"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"  
  
Noctis eyed him with a small frown, but showed no other reaction apart from that. "Yeah."  
  
Prompto bit his lip and shrugged. "I just wanted you to know. I know this week has been kinda weird after what happened. So if you need to talk about anything, I'm here for you, yeah?"  
  
Noctis nodded and looked away, a strange emotion flashing in his eyes. "I'm fine, Prom, but thanks."  
  
Prompto really doubted that.

  
~&~

  
After a heavy training session, Gladio and Noctis sat on the floor together, weapons at their sides, breaths coming out in heavy pants that seemed to echo around them. Gladio took several large gulps from his water bottle, revelling in the way it quenched his thirst, and he watched his charge carefully.  
  
Noctis was leaning back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling, his hair plastered to his face with sweat. He had fought with a strange determination today, as if he had something to prove, and there was something about that that worried Gladio.  
  
"Stop staring at me," Noctis said.  
  
"Not staring, merely looking."  
  
The prince snorted and his mouth tilted upwards a little, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, almost as if he was troubled by something. There were so many things Gladio wanted to ask, but he had no idea where to begin.  
  
"You okay?" Yeah, that seemed like a good place to start.  
  
Noctis nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."  
  
"You get your phone sorted out yet?"  
  
The younger boy paused then, eyes flicking off to the side briefly. "Yeah, I'm gonna get a new one. The other one still works, it's just...smashed up."  
  
Gladio paused, then nodded. "You said it fell, right? You dropped it?"  
  
"When that guy—" something in Noctis's voice changed a little, jumped, but he carried on as if it had never happened, as if he was hoping Gladio hadn't noticed, "—got the drop on me." He winced. "And before you start lecturing me about being aware of my surroundings, I _know_ , okay?"  
  
That was weird. "What? No, I wasn't gonna say anything about that," Gladio said. "I mean, I guess it's true, but you're still learning, you know? And no one ever expects to be attacked in broad daylight and in such a public place, come on."  
  
Noctis blinked and glanced away again. "Uh...yeah, I guess. Thanks."  
  
"You, uh..." Gladio looked down at the water bottle in his hands. Why was he never any good with this talking thing? "You okay, though? I mean, getting kidnapped, that's pretty rough."  
  
"I'm fine," Noctis said quietly and smiled faintly. It didn't reach his eyes.  
  
"Well, I'm here. If you ever need to talk."  
  
"Yeah. Thanks."

  
~&~

  
While Noctis was sat at his desk and working on some homework Prompto had brought him from school, Ignis set down a tray of light snacks and a drink and stood back to watch the prince hesitantly.  
  
His face and throat were still bruised, an awful sight to see, but at least the marks were beginning to fade now. Soon they would be gone forever, although not soon enough in Ignis's opinion. He hated to see them, hated the idea of his friend being hurt like that, hated the reminder of the terror and the panic when they had learned of the prince's kidnapping, the fear that they might not make it in time, that they might never get him back again.  
  
But they had gotten him back. He had been returned to them, safe and sound, and yet Ignis couldn't rest. Something was still troubling Noctis. Memories of his kidnapping, no doubt, but there was something more to it. If what Prompto had said was true, if Noctis was lying about what had happened, then he had no doubt that that was the cause behind the prince's new behaviour.  
  
"Might I have a word, Noct?" Ignis said.  
  
"Sure," Noctis replied without even looking up from his work.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," he said politely. "I know the doctors gave you the all clear, but if you had any other troubles, please do not hesitate—"  
  
Noctis paused, but he still didn't look up. "I'm fine, Ignis."  
  
"I just mean in case they missed anything, or if there is anything you're worried about. I'm here for you, if you need anything."  
  
The prince looked up at him then and smiled a little, nodding agreeably, the same way he did whenever he was entertaining guests at a party while he silently wished he could slip away and sent Ignis pleading glances to get him out of there. Seeing that look now, aimed at him, left him cold. "Thanks," Noctis said. "But, really, I'm fine."  
  
He wasn't fine.

  
~&~

  
Five days after his kidnapping, Noctis was training with Gladio with the faint hope of improving himself and the growing fear that he was a lost cause.  
  
He wanted to be better and _stronger_ , he didn't want to be caught unawares again, and so, while he and Gladio were training, he asked for his wrists to be tied behind his back.  
  
When Gladio frowned at him and asked why, Noctis simply shrugged as casually as he could and said, "That guy had me tied up and I couldn't get to my weapons. So I want to know how to fight better _without_ my hands." At his Shield's continued silence, Noctis glared at him. "Aren't you always telling me that I should learn new ways to improve my skills?"  
  
"You got me there," Gladio huffed and smiled a little, and so he helped tie Noctis's wrists together behind his back.  
  
Ignis and Prompto were off to the side, sitting on a wooden bench and watching them. Or, more likely, they were watching _him_ , like they had been for days now, especially since they had had dinner at that diner two days ago. It was like they were constantly monitoring his behaviour, waiting for him to slip up, and so he found himself gritting his teeth and bearing it, trying to act as normal as possible, not letting anything slip past his mask.  
  
Except, he must have let something slip past at some point, because they were more insistent now, they were far more observant than they had been at first. They were beginning to ask _questions_. He had obviously not been trying hard enough, he hadn't been hiding anything as well as he should have been, and now they were catching on, they were starting to suspect that something was wrong. Noctis couldn't have that, he couldn't have them knowing what had happened.  
  
How could they accept what had happened if  _he_ couldn't accept it? So, instead, he would have to pretend, he would have to up his game and act the way he had been  _before_ , before this whole mess had begun, before his world had been turned upside down, before he had become _this_.  
  
If he pretended that he was okay for long enough, then maybe he could convince them. Maybe he could convince himself.  
  
Fighting Gladio without his hands proved even more difficult than he had expected, and he was suddenly grateful that his Shield had decided today was for training him in hand-to-hand and not with his sword. He ducked and dodged past Gladio's swinging fists, rolling away to the side to escape a kick. Getting back to his feet was a little difficult, his balance thrown all to hell, but he managed it quickly enough.  
  
He ducked down under another punch and swung his leg around, aiming to trip his Shield up, and he would have done had the older man not jumped out of the way. As he rose back to his feet, he flexed his hands behind his back. _Feel the weapon, grip it, pull it out_. He concentrated, sensing that familiar weight, that shape, and he gripped it, pulling his sword out of the armoury, smiling a little when he felt the solid hilt in his grip.  
  
Gladio glanced down at the weapon and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't comment on it. A quick glance over at the others showed that Prompto was watching curiously and Ignis was frowning. But none of that mattered, the important thing was that he had done it, he had pulled a weapon out. Noctis let the sword disappear and jumped backwards, moving out of the way of several punches. For such a large guy, Gladio was surprisingly quick. It was all Noctis could do to keep up with him, to move out of the way and focus on ducking and rolling.  
  
He managed to get a few kicks in, catching him in the shoulder and then the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Noctis quickly jumped forwards and swung his leg at the backs of Gladio's knees, knocking him down to the floor while he was busy getting his breath back. He jumped away as his Shield fell and concentrated again, feeling for a weapon, gripping and pulling at that familiar weight, letting it settle into his hands like an old friend. He found himself grinning, breathless and giddy, because he could _do_ it.  
  
_See?_ He thought as he let the weapon disappear again. _I'm not useless. I'm not weak. I_ can _do it._  
  
_So why didn't you do it before?_  
  
Noctis flinched and looked up just in time to see Gladio swinging at him again. He went to move out of the way. But then either he didn't dodge quick enough or Gladio overbalanced, or maybe even both, because suddenly Noctis was on his back with Gladio on top of him, his huge body looming over him, pinning him to the floor, and his hands were still tied behind his back, and Noctis froze, panic shooting through him like a lightning bolt because—  
  
"—whoa, whoa, whoa, Noct, hey—"  
  
Because he was back there, he was _right back there_ , with those large hands rubbing over his body, with the man's groans in his ear and that tongue on his throat and the fear, _gods the fear_ , and he was helpless against him, shaking his head constantly and sobbing and _please, please, please, please_ _—_  
  
_You're so pretty._  
  
"—Noct—"  
  
"—damn it, get him untied—"  
  
Those hands,  _those hands_ , slapping him across the face and banging his head against the floor and squeezing his throat until he couldn't breathe any longer. Those hands, pulling at his clothes, trailing over his chest, touching him through his school pants. The scratchy carpet beneath him and his loud sobs echoing back at him and the harsh fluorescent lights shining in his face, showing everything in stark detail, not allowing him to hide away from what was happening—  
  
_If you're good for me, then I might make it good for you._  
  
_Please, please, please, please_ _—_  
  
"Noct!"  
  
"—please, please, please, please," a voice was saying, and it took him a moment to realize it was his _own_ voice, strangled and weak and desperate, and the face hovering in front of him wasn't _that man's_ , it was Gladio, his brown eyes wide and anguished and startled, his hands held out in a surrendering gesture. Noctis stared, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, his eyes blurring suspiciously. He could feel his body shaking and he hated it. "Gladio?" he croaked.  
  
"You're all right, kiddo," Gladio said, his voice strangely thick. "We've got you. You're safe."  
  
At some point he had been lifted into a half-sitting position, his back resting against a broad chest, hands holding onto his shoulders. _Ignis_. His hands had been untied and were loose at his sides, one of them gripped tightly in two other softer hands. _Prompto_.  
  
Noctis looked between them all, at Gladio's stricken face in front of him, at Prompto's unshed tears beside him, at the grim, solemn line of Ignis's mouth behind him. "I—" Noctis said, and he closed his eyes at the sound of his own voice, weak and strangled. He was still shaking, and there was no way his friends  _hadn't_ picked up on that.  
  
"I think that's enough training for today," Ignis said softly.  
  
"No," Noctis protested, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. Why was it such a struggle to get that single word out? "I can do better," he said. "Let me try again, I'll do better this time." _I won't freeze up, I won't mess it up._  
  
"No way," Gladio shook his own head, still sounding strange. "I'm not putting you through that again, not right now. I can't."  
  
"Please," Noctis sobbed, and he covered his mouth with his free hand, trying to keep the noises in, trying not to show any more weakness than he already had. He wasn't there anymore, he was safe with his friends, so why was that familiar sickening despair trying to claw its way out? He should be fighting against it, should be hiding it all.  
  
But it was pointless now, wasn't it? They already knew. They had seen him drop the mask, they had seen him become lost to the memories of those hands and that body, and there was no coming back from any of that was there? They had seen his weakness, they had seen him for what he was. There was no going back after this.  
  
The tears finally fell then, burning their way down his cheeks, and he was as weak as he was back in that van, except now they could _see_ how weak he was. He turned his face away from them. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm _sorry_."  
  
"Oh, _Noct_ ," Prompto said, holding Noctis's hand closer to his chest.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

  
~&~

  
They took him to his room, discreetly and quietly, Gladio carrying him through the less used corridors so that they could avoid running into anyone. It wouldn't do to have someone see what a mess their Crown Prince had become, right?  
  
Noctis sat on one of the couches, slumped back in it with his hands loose in his lap. Ignis sat at his side, body turned towards him, and Prompto and Gladio were nervously sitting on the couch opposite. Prompto looked torn between staying where he was and jumping over to sit on Noctis's other side, and the inner turmoil seemed to have him jittery, chewing on the edge of his thumb and his foot tapping on the floor. Gladio looked tense and ready to leave, as if he couldn't stand to be here any longer, and he had trouble looking at Noctis. He couldn't blame him. It hurt, of course, but he still couldn't blame his Shield for feeling that way.  
  
The tears had stopped, _thankfully_ , but now he simply felt numb, resignation settling deep into his bones, heavy and cold. This was it, wasn't it? He would have to explain himself, have to see those looks on their faces, those looks he had been dreading and trying to avoid, and he would lose them because he was so terribly _weak_ and shameful, and then he would be alone with this very shame.  
  
_Weak pathetic coward._ Noctis winced and ran a hand over his eyes, fighting back the urge to scratch at his skin.  
  
"Noct?" Ignis said from beside him, voice quiet and gentle, hand reaching out to hesitantly touch his arm, treating him as if he was a frightened animal.  
  
"We need to talk about this, kiddo," Gladio said, his voice rough and still tinged with that strange tone. "I mean, back there, you— _fuck_. You looked—it was like you thought I was gonna hurt you or something."  
  
Noctis shook his head. "It wasn't you," he said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It wasn't you," he repeated. "I wasn't seeing you."  
  
Prompto took his thumb away from his mouth and glanced at the others, his face showing he already knew the answer before he even asked, "Then who _were_ you seeing?"  
  
Noctis looked away.  
  
"Noct," Ignis said again. His hands closed around one of Noctis's. " _Noctis_. Please."  
  
Oh, oh that hurt. Ignis was always the perfect picture of composure, always calm and collected, hardly ever losing his cool, even when they were children. To have him sound so—so _broken_ , to be the cause of that tone and that desperate look in his eyes—  
  
Noctis swallowed. "I messed up, okay?" he murmured. "I fucked up, and now _I'm_ fucked up because of it."  
  
Gladio frowned. "Wait, what?"  
  
"I'm sorry, okay?" Noctis shook his head and fought against that feeling trying to crawl back in, the helplessness and the despair. "I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean to do it—"  
  
"Noct, buddy," Prompto sat forward, no longer tapping his foot now, and he looked just as confused as Gladio. "You're not making any sense."  
  
"I _lied_ , okay?" Noctis yelled at him. "About that guy that kidnapped me. I _lied_! He tried—" his voice broke off with a choke, the words like ash in his mouth. "He _tried_. And I didn't fight him."  
  
There was a long silence. Noctis kept his gaze on his hands, couldn't bear to look at any of them, couldn't bear to see the moment they realized what he meant. And yet they weren't leaving, they weren't parting ways with words of disgust. Ignis wasn't letting go of his hands. If anything, his grip tightened, the whites of his knuckles starting to show.  
  
"I think," Ignis said slowly and softly. "I think you should tell us everything now. From the beginning."  
  
Noctis looked up at him then, met the eyes of his future advisor. Ignis was hard to read sometimes, but there was no mistaking the earnestness in his gaze now. "I know it's hard," Ignis said. "But we're here for you. I promise."  
  
Noctis told them.  
  
He told them _everything_ , from his earliest memories of being knocked out, to waking up in the van, bound and gagged. He told them about his pitiful attempts at escape and he told them how he struggled to grab a weapon from the armoury no matter how hard he tried.  
  
Then he told them about _that man_ , and how he had shut them away in the back of the van and had cut his jacket off, had climbed on top of him and ran horrible hands all over his body. He told them his biggest shame, how he had _frozen_ and hadn't fought against him, hadn't been able to summon the will to do anything. It was tempting to leave some things out, or to try and somehow justify his actions, but he found himself unable to do either. Instead, he gave them everything, every dirty little detail, and his friends remained quiet the whole time, watching him with pale faces and eyes flickering with so many emotions, only speaking up to offer words of comfort and encouragement when it became too much for him, when he needed to look away and take deep breaths and remind himself that he wasn't _there_ anymore and that he was safe.  
  
After, they sat in silence, and Noctis fought back the rising panic that he had just ruined everything. "I know," he started, then paused, swallowed. "I know I should be grateful. I mean—it's not like I was actually raped, you know? Some people go through so much worse, and here I am feeling messed up over _this_. I shouldn't _be_ this way, not really, but I just...I can't turn it off. I don't know why."  
  
Ignis stared at him in horror. "Do you truly believe that?" When Noctis stayed silent, something pained flashed over his friend's face. "Just because you weren't raped does _not_ mean you didn't go through something just as terrible. You were assaulted, you went through something very traumatic. Your feelings are just as valid as anyone else's, Noct, please don't ever think otherwise."  
  
Noctis stared down at his hands, not really knowing what to say to that. "My Dad and Cor and everyone, they think he kidnapped me because I'm the prince, and that he had accomplices. He didn't. I think he's telling the truth when he says he had no idea who I am."  
  
"That doesn't excuse him," Ignis said. His grip was still tight on Noctis's hand, but he wasn't letting go.  
  
Prompto was looking away, his blond hair shielding his face, but he turned suddenly, biting his lip, eyes welling up with tears. "Why didn't you _tell_ us? Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Noctis shrugged and looked away. "I can't even live with what I did, Prom. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else knowing."  
  
"But I could have—"  
  
"Wait, wait," Gladio interrupted, finally raising his gaze from the carpet. "What _you_ did?"  
  
"I _froze_ ," Noctis said, glancing between them all, seeing that similar look of incomprehension on each of their faces. They didn't understand, why didn't they understand? "I froze when I should have fought against him."  
  
Gladio was frowning again. "And so, what, that makes what happened your fault?"  
  
"It wouldn't have _happened_ if I had fought back." They were staring at him strangely again, and he could feel that panic rising in his chest, stealing his breath and making him shiver. He tugged his hand out of Ignis's grasp and moved away to the other side of the couch, backing up as much as he could. "I should have done something, _anything_ , then he wouldn't have had the chance. Then I wouldn't _be_ like this. Why are you all looking at me like that?"  
  
"Noct," Ignis said. "Noct, what happened was _not_ your fault. Not in _any_ way."  
  
Noctis stared at him. "But I _froze_. I froze when I should have fought him." They were staring at him like _that_ again, but couldn't they see? Couldn't they see just how damn weak he was? "I keep freezing."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
He could feel tears again, and Noctis rubbed at his eyes with a hand. "I mean...I keep freezing. Around other guys. It's like—it's like I'm back _there_ again or they'll want to do the same thing and I just keep freezing and I _hate_ it."  
  
Prompto had an expression like he was connecting the dots, and he had never looked so grim and serious in all the time that Noctis had known him. "Like at the arcade, or those bikers or—"  
  
"Not the bikers," Noctis shook his head, then felt a laugh bark out from him. "I just—they—I just _wondered_...if I could recreate what happened, then maybe I could fix my mistakes. I could prove I'm not weak." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and pressed his hands to his face. "Great job I did there, right?"  
  
"You weren't..." Prompto started, looking even paler. "You weren't gonna go  _through_ with that, were you? With—with the bikers."  
  
"No," Noctis replied.  
  
Ignis let out a soft sigh, looking relieved. "I should hope not," he said gently.  
  
"And today?" Gladio said roughly, after a moment. "What was today about?"  
  
"Same thing, I guess. Wanted to prove to myself I could do it, but I fucked it up anyway."  
  
"Noct," Ignis said, and the couch moved as his advisor shuffled closer, a hand touching his shoulder gently. "What happened with your kidnapper was _not_ your fault. You are not to blame for any of it."  
  
Noctis turned his head to look at him. "Haven't you been listening?"  
  
"Extensively," Ignis replied. "Noct, freezing up is an act of self-defense. It's a subconscious act, rather like the fight-or-flight response, and it's done when the mind thinks there is no escape from the situation."  
  
"But there _was_ an escape, I just had to _fight_ for it—"  
  
Gladio shook his head. "Which you already did. You tried to get out of that van, you fought back against that guy, until he had you...pinned down." Gladio winced, eyes pained and he ran a hand over his mouth. "We saw the Crownsguard pulling him out of the van, Noct. That guy was huge, there was no way you could overpower him if he was truly intending to hurt you."  
  
"Noct," Prompto said slowly, quietly, hands clasped together between his knees, feet tapping again. "If it—if it had been _me_. If he had taken me instead of you, would you blame me for freezing?"  
  
"What?" Noctis stared at him, horror filling him at the mere _suggestion_. "No!"  
  
"Then why are you blaming yourself?"  
  
Noctis paused. "Because—I could have stopped it."  
  
"And we've just established that that guy was a lot stronger than you," Gladio said softly. "Noct, you keep trying to make these excuses, like the whole thing was on _you_ to put a stop to. The truth is, he shouldn't have done it in the first place, there shouldn't have been anything to try and stop. Nothing _ever_ excuses assault, okay?"  
  
"I—" they all believed it, he could tell. They were all watching him with the same earnestness, the same belief shining in their eyes. He had explained it all properly, hadn't he? He had told them everything, every last detail, right? So why didn't they believe that it was his fault?  
  
_Was_ it his fault? At all?  
  
"I know you don't believe me, so I don't care how long it takes," Gladio said. "I'll remind you every day for the rest of our lives if I have to. You didn't do anything wrong, Noct."  
  
Ignis's hand squeezed his shoulder gently. "I'm curious, before you told us, you kept apologizing. Why?"  
  
"I—" Noctis looked down at his hands. They were shaking again, and his vision was blurring, but, strangely enough, he didn't have that crawling feeling under his skin. "I didn't want you guys to know about this. Ever. I wanted to hide it. I didn't want you to—I don't know, be disgusted or ashamed of me or hate me or think I was weak."  
  
"Never," Prompto said fiercely.  
  
Gladio shook his head. "No way. You've been dealing with this all on your own, what you went through and then the fallout. And then you told us, even when you didn't want to, even when you thought we would hate you. That takes a _hell_ of a lot of guts to do that." Gladio gave him a weak smile, eyes suspiciously bright. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. I hate the fact that you went through this, but I'm proud of you."  
  
"Agreed," Ignis said softly. "I can't begin to imagine what you went through, but I can promise that I will be here for you whenever you have need of me. We _all_ will. We'll help you in whatever way we can."  
  
Gladio and Prompto quickly nodded in agreement, and Noctis had to take deep breaths, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He had told them. He had told them and they hadn't walked away, they hadn't turned their heads in disgust. A part of him wondered that maybe, just maybe, this was a trick, that they would eventually _realize_ and they would leave, but that idea seemed crushed into pieces under the sincerity of their gazes.  
  
"Guys—" Noctis started, then had to stop, his throat closing and his eyes stinging. "Guys, I just—I—" he had bared all to them and it felt like a reopened wound, raw and painful and exposed, and it hurt, _it hurt_ , but there was something else there with it, something that felt strangely like relief. Noctis pressed a hand to his mouth, feeling stupid that he was close to sobbing again, _he was always fucking crying now_ , but his friends didn't turn away, they didn't shun him, they didn't hate him  
  
"Oh," Prompto said softly, his own eyes welling up. "Oh man. I want to hug you so bad, but I don't want to overwhelm you or anything."  
  
Noctis shook his head. "You can— _please_ _—_ " He wanted his friends. That voice was there, in the back of his head, chanting how weak he was, how it was weak to _want_ to be held, but it was a weakness he would allow himself to have right now.  
  
They all came to him. Ignis sitting on his right, Gladio on his left, Prompto kneeling in front of him, their arms wrapped around him like a cocoon, holding onto him as the sobs painfully ripped from his chest. They were solid and comforting and _supportive_ , and it was the safest he had felt since this whole nightmare had begun.

  
~&~

  
After a while, when Gladio and Prompto were busy fighting over what game they should all play, Ignis took him aside and spoke quietly. "Noct, you realize...I have to tell your father and Cor about this? I have to tell them everything you told us."  
  
Noctis looked away, biting his lip, and nodded. It was the logical thing to do, he knew it. His kidnapper had to be charged with the right crimes and be dealt with accordingly, he had to face the punishment for what he had done. Noctis _knew_ that.  
  
Ignis must have seen something on his face and in his eyes, because his expression softened. "Your father loves you dearly," he murmured. "He won't think any less of you for this. Just like we don't."  
  
Noctis nodded again. He didn't want his dad to find out, but at the same time he felt a strange need for him to know.  
  
"You can tell him," he said.

  
~ &~

  
It was over an hour later before Ignis returned. Noctis looked up from the video game to see his dad was in tow and looking very solemn. His heart sunk in his chest, because his dad knew now, he _knew_ , and there was no taking it back, there was no hiding it away any more.  
  
"Hey," Prompto nudged him. "You can go. We'll just stay in the town and wait for you, I promise we won't do the quest without you."  
  
Gladio nodded. "I want to buy some more weapons anyway."  
  
Noctis glanced at their characters on the television and then nodded, setting his controller down on the table in front of them as he got up. Ignis pressed a hand to his shoulder when he passed him, giving him an encouraging smile, and it lifted a weight in his chest a little. Perhaps this would be fine, after all.  
  
He led his dad through the doorway into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind them. His father watched him the whole time, silent, eyes sad and regretful, and Noctis had to look away from that gaze. "So," he said, then cleared his throat when his voice came out too rough and scratchy. "Ignis told you?"  
  
"Yes," his dad said. "We passed the information onto Cor, and, I assure you, the proper measurements will be taken."  
  
"Oh," Noctis said, then nodded. "Okay. That's—that's good."  
  
"Noct."  
  
Noctis looked up, met his father's eyes, and he crumbled. "I'm sorry."  
  
"No," his dad replied instantly, fiercely. "You have nothing to apologize for. I should be the one apologizing to you."  
  
"No you don't, you haven't done anything wrong."  
  
"But I have," his dad said, voice thick. His hand reached out and gently rested on Noctis's shoulder. "I should have known that something was wrong."  
  
Noctis shook his head. "I didn't really want anyone to know."  
  
"Yes, Ignis told me. That doesn't bring me any comfort, however. As your father, I should have noticed you weren't unharmed, even when you said otherwise."  
  
"Please don't blame yourself for this," Noctis pleaded. "I don't blame any of you for what happened."  
  
His dad smiled weakly. "But you blame yourself."  
  
Noctis looked away. "I just—" he swallowed and took a deep breath. "The others say it's not my fault that I froze up, that it's natural and it happens, but...I just feel like I could have done more. I feel like I failed everyone. I'm supposed to be a fighter, and I got scared, you know?"  
  
His father was silent for a moment, watching him with those sad eyes, and then he went to sit on the edge of the bed, motioning for Noctis to come closer. He didn't hesitate, he went to his father's side instantly, sitting down next to him. "When you were a child," his dad said slowly, as if the words pained him to say, "when you were attacked by that daemon. I remember the moment I found you. You were so small, and so still, covered in blood and barely responsive."  
  
Noctis watched his father carefully. They rarely, if ever, talked about the daemon attack. It wasn't something he remembered clearly, but it was obvious it was still fresh in his dad's mind, even now. "I remember one of my men telling me that we had to get you help immediately," his dad said. "' _We have to get him back to the Citadel now, or we'll lose him_ ,' he said. And I froze. For that moment, that one moment, I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything." He looked up at Noctis then, his eyes a mixture of emotions. "I could have cost you your life, by acting such a way. There have been times when I've wondered if your recovery was impeded by that moment."  
  
"Even if it did, I'd never blame you for that," Noctis murmured. "You were scared."  
  
He felt himself jolt at his own words, and his father smiled then, knowingly, and nodded. "I know our situations are far different, but I wanted to share this with you. Even kings get scared, Noct. Even kings can freeze, for any reason and at any time. It doesn't mean you are weak."  
  
His father didn't think he was weak. His father knew the truth, he knew the _full truth_ , and he still didn't think he was weak. He didn't think he was disgusting, and he was looking him in the eye, and that was all Noctis could ever ask for. He managed a small smile for his dad and leaned forward until he could press his face into his shirt. An arm came around him instantly, a hand burying into his hair, and he sighed. There were no tears this time, having exhausted himself earlier when confessing to his friends. Instead, he simply felt tired, but there was a new calmness settling in his bones, light and freeing.  
  
"My boy," his dad murmured, and he pressed a kiss to Noctis's head. "My brave boy. You are not alone. We'll help you get through this."  
  
Five days after his kidnapping, and Noctis finally felt like he could breathe.

  
~&~

  
One day, it would get better. Maybe not this day, maybe not the next day, or the day after that.  
  
But one day, it _would_ get better.  
  
He knew it would.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ivorydice.tumblr.com


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